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An excerpt from my most current newsletter: “The Hand Print”:
That scene would star Jenna and a very well-recognised male porn star named T. T. Boy, a small, pugnacious performer with a lantern jaw and a lasting scowl who reminded me of a significantly less-vivid Patrick Bateman. (“Within the small business, he is recognized as an untiring performer,” T. T. Boy’s Wikipedia webpage touts. “In a 2015 interview, he stated that about the system of his vocation, he has slept with over 10,000 ladies.”) I knew who T. T. Boy was just before I arrived simply because I experienced go through about him in the internet pages of The New Yorker. In 1995, Susan Faludi experienced composed about the suicide of a male porn star named Cal Jammer, and in the course of her exploration in the San Fernando Valley, her route experienced crossed with that of T. T. Boy’s. In her story, she’d quoted a previous male porn star who’d observed of T. T. Boy: “Basically, the male is a lifestyle-support method for a penis.” I identified this assessment to be about right. He was lesser than me, brooding, coiled as if seeking for an justification to do anything to a person—it did not genuinely make any difference what or who, irrespective of whether it was battling or fucking. Maybe it was all the exact to him.
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